I’ll Fly Away

Some glad morning when this life is o’er,
I’ll fly away;
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away;
When the shadows of this life have grown,
I’ll fly away;
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I’ll fly away;
Just a few more weary days and then,
I’ll fly away;
To a land where joys shall never end,
I’ll fly away.

Well prepared—sturdy boots; a bundle with bonnet, stew pot, shirt & tie,
Leather britches that will last longer than the trail, longer than timber felling and barn raising.
A Quilt cover to pad ‘fore the winter sets in—to hang on the railing next spring
Its center yellow patch—a homing beacon to those that follow.
We leave just before supper—shadows are long, it will be dark soon.
We won’t be missed until morning—by morning, we will be beyond the boundaries of this prison.
Our son will NOT be sold at auction—that life is over.
To the joys of freedom we flee.